The Meaning of Scarlet The 5th Hunger Games
by laptop246
Summary: Scarlet Silverrope is one of the only three known survivors of the bombing of District 13. A girl known only as Scar has lost her family, her home, and her friends, all to the war. The one thing they have in common is that they're both in the Hunger Games


**_All right, this one's going to be exciting! It's my first co-written story, and this one is from my own charecter's point of view, Scarlet. Later on, MrsXDamonXSalvatore is going to be writing from Scar's point of view. All ready? All right? Confused, anyone? I sure hope not, it's only just started! ;) Enjoy, review, and I will try to message you. If I don't, message me. :D_**

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><p><strong><em>*Scarlet's POV*<em>**

A whistle. That was the only warning. A whistle, and then a crash. A loud, bone-shattering boom. They ground shook. I was thrown a good foot into the air. Then there was another whistle. People began to understand. There was screaming. The first fire began.

"Run." My mother's voice was shaking with the effort of just saying the word. We were in a patch of forest, just outside District 13. The fires would quickly spread here. Mom and I took off, her clutching baby Evelyn. I was glad that we hadn't taken packs. They would only have slowed us down.

The screams of the doomed sounded behind us. It broke my heart and I almost wanted to turn back. I almost wanted to try and save someone, fruitless though it was likely be. Almost. _Save yourself!_ A voice screamed inside of me _Save yourself, your mother, and Evelyn, and you will have accomplished something. _After all, it was just a fluke that we weren't among them.

There is no end to the whistles, and the ground shook violently under our feet, making it hard to run. I fall, hitting my head hard. I almost wanted to lie there and pass out, trying my luck with the fire. "Scarlet!" my mother screeched from far ahead. I brought myself up, and run to her.

I dared risk a glance behind us. The trees block my view of District 13, my home, but I do see a soft orange glow around the trees, and dark shapes in the sky. That, and the continuous screams of the doomed, told me all I needed to know. District 13 was going down in flames.

Evelyn was crying. Her screams didn't even pierce the din around us. The ground shook more than before, and Mother and I bounced almost two feet into the air. I managed to land on my feet, but Mom's legs slipped from under her. She screamed as the ground shook again, Evelyn's scream mixing with her's. Desperately trying to balance, I couldn't help them, and when the ground temporarily steadied, I looked to her to see her clutching Evelyn, tears leaking out of her eyes.

"Mom?" I bend down, and the ground shakes again, but not so violently. "Mom, what's wrong?" But the moment I ask, I see. Mom's leg is bent at an odd angle. "Oh my..." I look to the sky, as was customary in District 13 – to blame the sky for things gone wrong. "Why?"

"Honey, Scarlet, honey, dearie," it occurred to me that Mother must have taken a hit to the head as well. "Take Evelyn. Go. Save yourself."

"No," I said. "I'll take both of you. Here." I took Evelyn's blanket and wrapped it around my shoulder to my hip, making a carrier. I carefully placed Evelyn in there, who screamed on. "Lean on me," I commanded my mother, jumping as the ground shook violently again. My ears rang from the sound of a nearby whistle.

"Go," Mom moaned. "just go."

I grabbed her arm and dragged her up. She yelped in pain, and made her lean on my side. "I'm not leaving you."

The going was much slower now, because we had to walk, and every time the ground shook, Mom would fall again, yelling and crying in pain, begging me to leave her. Evelyn was inconsolable, screaming her head off. My ears were ringing so badly, I could hear nothing more.

It took me some time to notice, but the screams stopped. The whistles still continued for quite some time, but eventually, they too, stopped. There was only the screams of Evelyn and the sobs of Mom and my own gasping breath.

"Wait," I finally gasp. "Stop." Mother drops to the ground, panting with exhaustion, and I take Evelyn out, and pat her back, muttering consolences to her as I gazed back to District 13. My eyes were drooping with exhaustion. And to think that only a few hours before, I was snuggled in bed, sleeping soundly. . . but that we before Dad had come.

One moment he wasn't there, the next he was. When he hissed my name, his voice was hoarse with anger. "Scarlet!" When I blinked drowsily, his face showed such urgency that I sat up immediately, rubbing my eyes. "What?" I groggily asked.

"You've got to go," the panic was now clear in his voice. "You've got to get out of here. Now." He grabbed my hands, pulling me out of bed.

"What?" I repeated, yawning and blinking sleep out of my eyes. What was going on? Everything seemed right – peaceful and quiet, regular District 13 at night. I looked back at my bed longingly. I had been having such a nice dream – there had been a dragon involved, I think.

"Scarlet, honey, you have to get your mother and Evelyn –" he was cut off by my mother's loud voice. Dad's head shot up like a rabbit. "Georgia?" he called to her.

Mom's head appeared in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at Dad's face while she entered. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.

My parents had been divorced for a year then. My father said that they had grown apart. Mom said that Dad had become too obsessed in the rebellion against the Capitol. In his high rank as officer, my mother said, he was a monster.

I preferred Father's explanation.

But in my room at that moment, I could feel Mother's tension and Father's worry and apprehension.

"What's wrong, Dad?" I asked before Mom could being snipping at him.

Dad looked from me to Mom. "An agreement has been found," he said. Mom and I immediately looked to each other, for we knew he meant between our President Coin, and the capitol's President Snow.

"Finally!" Mother had thrown her hands to the sky in happiness, all tension forgotten. "It's over!" I, too, smiled. The war had gone on longer than my 11-year-old life.

"No, no!" my father cried, making mine and Mom's smiles falter. "The worst is yet to come." He glanced about nervously. "I . . . I was forbidden to come. I . . ." he squared his shoulders. "Never mind that. What's important is. . . we surrendered."

"What?" Mom and I exploded at the exact same moment. "What do you mean we surrendered?"

Father's head was bowed and sad. "We surrendered, but to a great cost for the Capitol."

Mom was silent. She was too scared to ask. However, curiosity was about to burst in me. "What cost, Father?"

He hesitated. "You both know of the tunnels under the ground, made to protect us from any attacks?" Mother and I both nodded. We knew of this project – it was a new idea, made because we knew that the Capitol now had bombs.

"Well," he rubbed his face with his hands. "it isn't quite complete yet. It can only hold about a third of the district, in close quarters." He paused, apparently unable to go on.

I let him stay quite a moment, and then press him. "And?"

"We have agreed to allow the Capitol to bomb us," Father whispered. "we shall draw the highest-ranking troops and their direct families, no more, into the tunnels. The rest. . ." he trailed off. He didn't need to continue. Mom and I could only stare at him, wide-eyed.

"But . . ." Mom breathed. "That's . . . that's slaughter!"

Dad could only nod. An idea struck me. "Father, we are you direct family, right? You can save us."

Father only shook his head. "No, I can't. Coin said 'direct family.' I'm afraid that she doesn't consider you my direct family any more, ever since the divorce. . ."

Mother began to cry. My eyes, too, were wide, but no tears leaked out. I was beginning to understand. "You mean . . . we are going to die?"

"No!" Mom shrieked and grabbed my hands. "we are not going to die. We. . . we. . . we'll run." She looked to Dad, as if for reassurance. He nodded.

"It might be fruitless," he warned. "troops might catch you leaving. You might be bombed anyway. I'm risking my life coming here, but . . ." he looked around again. "I couldn't just let you die."

Mom stared at him a long moment, and then muttered, "Thank you. So much."

Dad stared back, and inclined his head. "It's nothing."

Then he was gone again, hurrying back to the troops. Hopefully no one noticed he was ever gone. I wouldn't be able to tell you.

Mom and I wrapped up Evelyn, still sleeping. We were gone in an instant. Mom didn't see me slipping my neck-bag around my neck and under my shirt. Inside it were the only things more precious to me than Evelyn, Mother, and Father.

We set off. We were careful to avoid troops, and escaped. We waited in the patch of woods, looking upon our sleeping District, unable to believe it was true, and then . . . whistles.

I woke with a start. It took me several moments to remember what had woken me, and where I was.

An acrid smell in the air.

Bright colors, like sunset.

Trees. All around.

Evelyn screaming again.

I looked to the sky again, scrambling to my feet. "Why?" I shrieked. "Fire! Mother, up! Fire!"

Mother, having fallen asleep, too, snaps open her eyes. She sees the orange glow getting closer, and quickly allows me to help her up. I put Evelyn, still screaming, back in her pouch. We set off again, quicker this time.

Mother still cannot support herself completely, though she is doing better. The heat rises, and the smell of smoke comes closer. I force us to go further. We cannot stop. We cannot die now. Not now. Not when we were so close – so _close_!

We walk and walk and walk for what seems like hours, but I know must be only minutes. The heat grows, and I look back. The fire is visible now, growing closer and closer... We cannot outrun it. We are as good as dead. We might as well lie down and sleep, and die in peace. . .

But I can't accept it. I keep us moving. We have to make it! _Oh, please!_ I raise my eyes to the heavens, though I'm not sure who I am speaking to. It is simply a custom. _Oh, please, oh, please, oh please! We have to live! We just have to!_

Yet, remarkably, at that moment, we are saved. Water pours from the sky. I stop and stare in amazement with Mother as the fire sizzles out, and mud is everywhere, and I'm soaked, but I don't care. Mother has sat down, and is crying with relief. Suddenly renewed with energy, I grab Evelyn from the bag and begin to dance around with her. At first, Evelyn can only stare with wide eyes. Eventually, she giggles, and we are soon laughing and dancing together, in the rain, while Mom claps for us.

Life is amazing. It is a miracle. We were saved. We were alive! I put Evelyn down, and she snuggled up against Mom, and was soon sleeping soundly. I laid beside them. Soon Mom is asleep as well. I stared at the sky, totally shocked. Did something hear me? Some greater being? Or did a person make the rain fall, saving us? I didn't care. I was just glad I'm alive.

"Thank you," I whispered to the stars, and then I was drifting into dreamland.

The next morning, Mom and I woke in a dark room. It seemed fairly quiet as well, until I hear distant noises of two giggling babies, as well a woman's voice saying rhymes. I glance around us, sitting up. I seem to be sitting on a cot in a wooden room – there is what appears to be a window on the wall, sunlight leaking from the corners. The air was hot, and I pushed the blanket on top of me off, sweating.

"Mom?" my voice was a whisper, and I searched for her in the room. "Are you here?"

"Yes," she breathed back, and the blankets next to me shifted.

"Where are we?" I addressed them.

Mom didn't respond a moment, and I could imagine her pondering over the words. "Civilization," she whispered.

"The Capitol?" fear settled in my stomach. We weren't supposed to be alive . . . wouldn't the Capitol want us dead, as we were the only survivors not safely hidden under the ground . . . ?

"No," my mom answered. "This room is made of wood, and the cloth," she if fingering it, I could tell, though my eyes could hardly focus. "is rough cloth – not silk, as in the Capitol. And, for another, it's too quiet."

I listened a moment to the giggling of the babies in the kitchen. "Where are we, then? A district?"

"12 is closest," Mom answered. "but I don't believe that we could have run that far . . ."

I shivered. Remembering that late night run, I could believe that we had . . . "We needn't have come the whole way – just far enough . . ."

"So that we could be found," Mom finished my sentence, and the cot wobbled as she nodded.

"So you think that we are being cared for – rescued?"

"I think that we must be," Mom answered. "My leg – it's bound, and the pain is nearly gone."

"Well, that's good, at least," I said with a sigh of relief. I hated her being in pain.

"How's Evelyn sleeping?" Mom asked.

"Evelyn?" my voice was sharp. "I thought that you had her."

"No, I don't," Mom's voice rose. "Please tell me that you are joking." I didn't find this humorous. Why would I joke at a time like this . . ?

"No. . . you don't think . . ." I met her eyes, lit up by the light from the window, and I knew that she did. Our minds were dancing with images of poor baby Evelyn in the forest alone . . .

"Evelyn!" I cried, standing from the cot. My shoes had been removed, but I hardly noticed the roughness of the wooden floor. I had forgotten, too, the sense that we should not be discovered in my desperation to find my sister. "Evelyn!"

My mother, too, stood stiffly, and limped to open a door that I hadn't noticed. She beckoned me, and we stepped into a cheerily lit room. It took my eyes a moment to adjust, but when they do, I see a two babies playing on the floor. One is pudgy with brown hair and a large chin. The other is small and light haired, with blue eyes and a smile.

"Evelyn!" I cry, relief flooding me. Evelyn turns and smiles at me, running into my arms.

"Let! Let!" she says, using her pet name for me. "Look, Tim-ty. Tim-ty, Let." She gestures from the pudgy little boy to me.

"Hello, Timothy," I guessed the boy's name, and he smiles at me nervously. I could tell he wasn't one for strangers.

"Oh, you're awake," said a woman, who stood and faced Mother and I. "I'm so happy. My name is Terri Marchieti, and this is my son, Timothy." Mom and I both shook hands with Terri Marchieti, and she gestured for us to sit down at the wooden table. "Please, have some bread."

"How did we get here?" Mom asked immediately, not taking the bread and looking around as if uncomfortable. I felt quite the opposite – instinctively comfortable in this bright cottage on the day after the miracle. . .

"My husband, Rich, was hunting in the forest and –"

"Hunting?" I choked on my piece of bread. "In the forest?"

"Yes," Terri said

"But isn't that . . . it isn't allowed, is it?"

Terri shook her head, an almost amused expression on her face. "Not technically, but the fence around the District is never electrified. But anyway, Rich found you in a glade, and brought you to me. We are . . . better off than most families. We can afford to help you for the time being. Your leg," she nodded at Mom. "was fixed by a local doctor. He's not particularly skilled, but . . . he'll do, and your leg will heal.

"But now," Terri leaned in closer to us. "I want to hear why you're here."

Mom and I exchanged looks, shrugged, and told her the whole story. Terri, of course, was horrified, as she hadn't even heard of the end of the rebellion yet. After we all shared tears, she insisted we stay with her until we could get a home. Mom and I were too weary and tired to argue.

That night, we met Rich, who was just as kind and hospitable as Terri, and he, too, was troubled at the news of the bombing, asking us questions. We told him all we knew, which was precious little, but he seemed satisfied.

We stayed there for a few weeks, until Mom could walk around. Then we bought a house down the street. By then, the whole district knew of the bombing and the end of the rebellion. There was too much chaos for there to be suspicions about people moving into a house with little luggage. Mom started a laundry and seaming business with Terri. I helped when I could, but I mostly watched Timothy and Evelyn.

In the brief time I knew District 12, I found it peaceful and harmless. Most people had good homes, and a fair amount of food, as well as clothes on their back. A few people went shoeless, but they didn't seem to mind. Most men worked in the coal mines, but a few had shops or businesses, or hunted in the forest like Rich. The mood, however, was grim. What was the Capitol's next move going to be? No one was sure, though rumors circled like vultures.

Within two weeks of the rebellion's end, the changes began. The fence was turned on, electricity spiking along it. Terri and Rich were grim, for this meant that Rich could not get out of the District again to hunt. He was unemployed, and forced to go work in the horrible conditions of the mine. Men and women in white uniforms from District 2 came in, and were assigned as guards to watch us. They beat us for fun in the squares, made us pay taxes that we couldn't afford, lowered the wages of those working in the mines, and lived like pigs. They were called Peacekeepers.

And then, the worst, broadcasted on the television, a short video of President Snow giving a speech, announcing the biggest and "best" change. He said it was a reminder, a chance at fame and glory. He said that it was a chance for a better life. He said that we should have been grateful.

The Hunger Games were beginning.


End file.
